The Music of Ron Kerber

The Music of Ron Kerber

Composer’s Notes & Recording Credits

I have always had an affinity for Scotts and their culture. I’ve watched the motion picture Braveheart countless times and I’m a fan of the Outlander series. My wife and I have shared our home with two West Highland White Terriers and you’ll rarely see me turning down a finely aged single malt scotch. After visiting Scotland I discovered I even like Haggis. A few years ago I was surprised to find that my DNA results reflected a significant lineage to Great Britain. Who knew?

The bagpipe is an intriguing instrument and like the saxophone, is a woodwind. In both cases sound is created by forcing air over a reed, so composing a piece that conveyed the spirit of the pipes for saxophone seemed fitting. The pipes were conspicuously missing from all of my orchestration books so I did a deep dive online. Once upon a time, bagpipers escorted Scottish clans into battle. Familiar melodies and accompanying drones not only inspired the Scotts, but instilled fear in the hearts and minds of their enemy. That was all the motivation I needed to compose The Piper. The introduction is suggestive of daybreak in the highland and sets the tone for the fast paced melody in 6/8 time depicting an enthusiastic gathering of clans. A prayer before battle is characterized by the pensive interlude that follows. It’s back to 6/8 for the last section with soprano, alto, and tenor, nimbly passing the theme around.

I wanted to write a quartet that would give our baritone saxophonist a chance to spread his wings. At the time I had been studying the Muslim conquest of the Iberian Peninsula in the eighth century and that served as my inspiration to pen this piece. Al-Andalus is the classical Arabic name for the peninsula which is modern day Spain and Portugal. I don’t know about you but when I think about the Moors defeating the Visigoths, the baritone saxophone is the first thing that pops into my head. During the intro, baritone saxophonist Mark Allen soulfully cries the melody and then improvises the final two breaks by soaring into the altissimo register. The pattern of dropped and added beats is the distinguishing trait of the theme, along with an homage to middle eastern and flamenco scale choices. The secondary theme which follows highlights Joe Vettori’s expressive alto saxophone playing. The last baritone saxophone cadenza sets up one final statement of the theme with all members of the quartet playing in unison and octaves.

The Weimar Quartet is a four movement piece and the first work I composed for this ensemble. The process was somewhat cathartic because it is a musical imagining of my maternal grandparent’s lives as they came of age in Germany during The Weimar Republic (1918 – 1933). Chris Farr’s moving tenor saxophone starts the first movement After the Great War. I tried to convey the instability of their homeland in the shadows of the Treaty of Versailles by writing shifting triplet rhythms and ambiguous bar lines. Germany was in an economic and emotional depression leading to the rise in power of the National Socialist Party in 1933.

My Grandfather lived into his nineties and was more than happy to share a lifetime of memories with me as I became the repository of family lore. He told me that my grandparents had met at a Masquerade Ball in Frankfurt. There was immediate chemistry between them though it wasn’t quite love at first sight as the attendees were costumed and masked. They danced throughout the evening, their faces and identity hidden until it was time to depart. My grandmother’s maiden name was Strauss and she loved waltzes, thus the chosen time signature for this second movement.

My grandparents lost their first child during infancy. Shortly after the baby’s birth, doctors informed my grandfather that their newborn son would only live a few months and that he should be the one to tell his wife about the tragic prognosis. My Opa couldn’t bring himself to tell her, or anyone else for that matter…until he shared it with me over a half century later. I composed the lament Praying Hands for them and all parents who have lost a child. The title is taken from the pen and pencil drawing Betende Hände by the German artist Albrecht Dürer. That image is a commonly reproduced depiction of prayer throughout the western world.

Disarray is the fourth and final segment of the piece. Weimar Germany was in chaos because of unemployment, hyperinflation, hunger, and a political power struggle. What followed (1933 – 1945) was a nightmare that my grandparents endured, eventually coming to America in 1949. This last movement most definitely highlights the pairing of the alto and baritone saxophones, with Chris Farr and I doing the same on their B-flat counterparts.

I lost my grandfather, older brother, and father in the span of eleven years. I don’t think I handled the grieving process very well at the time. Composing An Empty Chair brought some closure. The three movements are reflections on mourning. The Following Holiday is an expression of what many of us have experienced during the first family gathering after the loss of a loved one, sadness juxtaposed with heartwarming memories of past celebrations.

Laid to Rest is one of the shortest pieces on this recording. It is unadorned and hollow. It’s very much like the numbness I feel when my emotional well has run dry. My three colleagues in the quartet are not only masters of the saxophone, they are extremely sensitive musicians. The wholesomeness and simplicity of their accompaniment was evident the very first time we read this piece.

Trees of Christmas Past is the only Christmas song I’ve ever written and though I have no proof, it may be the only one in existence that toggles between the time signatures of 6/8, 7/8, and 10/8. Once again alto saxophonist Joe Vettori provides the pre-carol prelude. I jotted this spirited melody down in a notebook many years ago after I had an epiphany while walking in the woods behind my home in Bucks County. I came across a pile of discarded Christmas trees that I had laid to rest after they had served their purpose in previous Decembers. Some had brown needles still clinging to their branches while others were now exposed skeletons. But no matter their condition, they were all lifeless. This was not the case with Christmas trees from my early childhood, those trees were still very much alive.

My parents moved from Philadelphia to the suburbs the year I was born. The property had been farmland before our house was constructed and though the soil was fertile, our property was void of trees. For the first ten years of my life Dad would purchase a live Tannenbaum during the Thanksgiving weekend to be placed it in our home and decorated for Christmas. At some point in early January, we would remove the burlap that covered the tree’s roots and plant it in a hole dug weeks earlier before the ground had frozen. The trees and I grew up together. Decades later I can still drive by my childhood home and see those fifty-foot firs. The epiphany? My father planted more than Christmas trees, he planted memories that remain ever green.

Being mindful requires a concerted effort on my part. The daily rituals of an instrumentalist and composer provide a regular place for me to apply Zen-like principles to my practice. Being in tune with nature is an opportunity to do that independent of music, or one would think. It doesn’t take long for earth’s natural beauty and rhythms to find their way into my consciousness in the form of musical thoughts. It’s a blessing…and sometime a curse.

If you hadn’t already discerned, I am fascinated by trees. Three Trees In Winter is a cycle of short tone poems all of which came to me while meditatively gazing at trees during the season of hibernation. The Still of the Willow was based on a theme from a piece I had written years earlier. The tranquil melody is voiced in chord clusters and makes its way in a reflective manner. It briefly sways and dances before finding stillness again at the poem’s conclusion.

The Steadfast Beech is a minute-long tip of the cap to a tree I barely notice when all others are in full foliage. However in winter when most deciduous trees have shed their leaves, Beeches retain theirs though now faded to a pale flaxen brown. The Beech is simply not ready to let go.

Like willows, The Poplars by the Creek thrive in the wet land behind my former home. These cottonwoods were in close proximity to each other, situated in such a way that their branches intertwined. When the winter wind blows the thick branches rub against those of their neighbors creating a creaking chorus that might seem eerie to some, but I find quite lovely. The natural corridor of the creek amplifies the sound except after a snowfall. Those hushed tones are what inspired this Erik Satie-like final movement of the cycle.

Left to Their Own Device is a bit of a mystery with a clue in the title. I wrote this piece to be performed with all four saxophonists using only their left hand to play it. Camille Saint-Saëns, Jean Sibelius, Alexander Scriabin, and Maurice Ravel, are a few of the composers who wrote piano works utilizing just the left hand. While those pieces are certainly a physical challenge to perform, all eighty-eight notes of the piano are still available to the soloist. This is not the case for saxophonists who are limited to using just the left/upper hand while playing. Not only are the lowest nine notes of the instrument eliminated (ten for the baritone), there are several higher notes that the saxophonist can only play by using alternate fingerings.

As a composer this presented an exercise in creative problem solving. There were times when I was painted into a musical corner, forced to find solutions such as shifting melodies between the E-flat and B-flat instruments, or simply altering the melody I was hearing. I imagine it’s up to the listener to decide whether I compromised artistic integrity for the sake of pulling off this amusing scheme.

Recording Credits

Soprano Saxophone -Ron Kerber
Alto Saxophone – Joe Vettori
Tenor Saxophone – Chris Farr
Baritone Saxophone – Mark Allen

Produced by Ron Kerber and Chris Farr
Recorded at Gradwell House Recording on July 17 and 18, 2023
Recording Engineer – John Anthony
Assistant Engineer – Matt Weber
Mixing Engineer – John Anthony
Mastering Engineer – Tom Volpicelli, The Mastering House
Released August 9, 2024